


Anne and George of the Thirds

by lilacsigil



Category: Famous Five - Enid Blyton
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsigil/pseuds/lilacsigil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George's first term at school promises to be a tumultuous one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anne and George of the Thirds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaspberryHeaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryHeaven/gifts).



Anne was always excited on the night before school began, but this year she was looking forward to school at least twice as much as last year. Her cousin George, on whose island they'd had such adventures last summer, was going to school for the very first time. Her father was an inventor, and for all he was very clever, being an inventor didn't make much money and he hadn't been able to pay for George to go away to school. That was, until last summer when George, Anne, her brothers, and George's dog Timmy had discovered long-lost treasure on Kirrin Island! It had belonged to an ancestor of theirs and now George's parents could afford to send her to school with Anne.

Anne plumped up the pillow on the extra bed one more time as she heard Father's car pull up. He'd gone to pick up George from the station – the train got in awfully late, not until after supper – so Anne and her mother had kept a plate of sausages, peas and mash warm in the oven for her. Anne's brothers had gone off to school earlier that day, so there was some gravy left, for once. Dashing down the stairs, Anne ran past her startled mother and threw open the front door, just in time to greet George.

"George! You made it! I was starting to think I'd dreamed you saying you'd come to school!"

George looked a bit tired after the long journey, but grinned anyway. She was dressed in her usual shorts and jumper, even for travelling. "Got any dinner? Mother packed heaps of food but Timmy and I made short work of that!"

"Come in!" Anne jumped out of her way and dropped to one knee to throw her arms around Timmy, who was following at his mistress' heels. He looked tired too, but licked at Anne's face with enthusiasm anyway. "Come on, boy, I think we might have a sausage or two saved for you," she told him, and led him in.

George was already seated at the table, shovelling in her supper and waving her fork while telling Anne's mother about her travels. "So Timmy was supposed to travel in the guard's van, but the guard knows Timmy and said he could travel in the carriage with me as long as it didn't get too crowded. And it didn't! There was only a vicar and his wife in the carriage, and they and Timmy got along famously."

"I don't think there'll be room in the carriage for him tomorrow, George, dear," Anne's mother told her, putting a plate on the floor for Timmy. "Here, Anne, bring Timmy over."

"Oh, we'll all get there in the end," Anne told George, to wipe away that worried look. "They put on a special train for us, so he won't get lost on the way. Then there's coaches down to the school, and everyone has their pets on that! Timmy can sit right between us." She was rather concerned that George would take against Gaylands before they got there, and once George's mind was made up, very little would change it.

George dug into her mash. "That's good, then. Timmy won't mind as long as we can meet up again at the station."

Anne cast a warning glance at her mother to head her off before she said anything about George being the one who wouldn't mind; her mother caught the look and mimed zipping her lips, much to Anne's relief. If she could only get George to see the school and how pretty it was in early Autumn, with the moor for Timmy to run on, she was quite convinced George would love it.

\---

George felt quite optimistic about school. The uniform was a pleated gymslip over a blouse, with thick stockings and sturdy leather shoes, so she could still run around without impediment. She'd tested this at home, to her mother's despair. The wool blazer was a bit stiff around her shoulders, but there she had the consolation that, apart from the buttons being on the wrong side, it was exactly the same as a boys' blazer. All in all, she thought that Gaylands sounded rather sensible, especially as they welcomed Timmy, too.

The other girls at the train station had patted and fussed over Timmy to his heart's content, so George didn't feel too bad when she had to leave him with the guard and squash into a carriage with Anne and a dozen others. They seemed a jolly lot, happy to share their food and chatting about Timmy. George talked mostly to a girl named Maureen who had brought her dog, too, a funny little terrier named Bob. She'd been worried about talking to so many people at once – there were more people on this train than in her whole village – but Maureen shared stories about Bob's antics and George talked about Timmy, and before she knew it they were all piling out of the carriages and heading for the coaches.

"Timmy!" George yelled, and burrowed her way through the crowd of chattering girls to the guard's van, Anne close on her heels.

The guard could barely hold onto Timmy's leash as he pranced about, trying to respond to George's call.

"He's a one-girl dog, this one!" The guard happily handed over the leash to George, who ignored it entirely in favour of scratching Timmy under the chin and giving him a firm pat for being a good boy.

"Oh, he's a lovely dog!" Anne told the man. "He's very brave, and even though he loves George best, he takes good care of me, too."

George's heart swelled with pride and she gave Timmy an extra cuddle before standing up again. "Do we go to the coaches now?"

"Yes, come on! We'd better hurry if we want to sit together!" Anne grabbed George's free hand and they hurried off to the row of coaches that waited outside the station, porters loading hundreds of labelled trunks into the luggage compartments.

George waved to Maureen, who had retrieved scruffy little Bob from the guard, and she followed them onto one of the coaches, letting the two dogs sniff at each other in a friendly way.

"Oh, look, they're friends already!" Maureen kept a firm hold on Bob's collar, as he was an excitable dog and quite small enough to escape out the window, let alone the open door, but Bob was showing no interest in anything other than getting to know his new friend.

George grinned. This school business was going to be all right, after all.

\---

Though George was a year older than Anne, a quick round of tests on George's first day put them both in Second Form.

"The Head said that my Composition and Science were good, but my Latin and mathematics were patchy and my French, geography and history were appalling!"

"You shouldn't sound so proud, George!" Anne was helping George put away her clothes neatly, which really meant that Anne folded them then winced as George took them and stuffed them in her chest of drawers. Now that it had been decided that George was in Second Form, they were in the same dorm with ten other girls.

"Oh, I told the Head why. My mother taught me Composition, and I couldn't help learning about science around my father. But he insisted on teaching me Latin and maths himself, and you know how we get along."

"Like two houses on fire!" Anne joked, but really she found George and her father's temper frightening. They were far too similar: they shouted at each other at least once every day, and argued over the most ridiculous things. "But you never learned geography and history?"

"Well, I did, and I can tell you all about the Civil War and smugglers and privateers, or rock strata and islands, but all the Head wanted to know was dates and kings and capital cities and I'm terrible at those."

Anne nodded sympathetically. She was much better at the stories than at dates, as well, if not rock strata! "Well, we start the week with History tomorrow, and Miss Badenoch is very strict, but I'll tell you something that will cheer you up."

"Apart from going to walk Timmy after dinner?" George didn't look too concerned, but then, she didn't know Miss Badenoch and her habit of rapping ignorant girls over the knuckles with a ruler.

"Yes, apart from that! Miss Badenoch is also the coach of the hockey teams and there's going to be tryouts on Wednesday after class. I know you've never played, but you're a terrific runner and you're not afraid of anything. I think you'd be a wonderful player."

"Is hockey scary?" George looked intrigued.

"It's very fast and can get rough. And I sometimes dodge the ball rather than stopping it."

George laughed loudly. "You play a scary game? I can't imagine that!"

"Well, see if I tell you anything else fun!" Anne threw three pairs of socks at George, who laughed and stuffed them in with everything else. Anne wasn't a scaredy-cat around normal things such as playing hockey. It was only when they had adventures like chasing down armed men and getting locked in a dungeon that she got scared. Really, she didn't understand how her brothers and George weren't just as frightened! "And you can fold your own shirts!" she added for good measure and went across to her own bed to start putting her own things away.

Joyce, who had the bed next to Anne's this year as well as last, leaned over from where she was digging her hair ribbons out of her trunk, and whispered, "She's a bit odd, your cousin."

Anne checked to see if George had heard, but George was whistling and shoving clothes into the drawers willy-nilly. She'd be more careful once she'd been sent to Matron and made to iron her own shirt!

"Oh, George has never been to school before and she doesn't have any brothers or sisters, so she's not used to being around other people. I'm sure she'll settle in, though."

Joyce raised an eyebrow. "You call her George? Well, she is wearing shorts."

Surprised, Anne glanced over to see George inelegantly sprawled on her bed, still whistling, displaying that she was indeed wearing boys' grey flannel shorts under her tunic.

"George!" Anne hissed. "Don't lie about like that! And you're not allowed to wear anything that's not in the uniform?"

George grinned at her and rearranged her tunic skirt. "Sorry! But no-one's going to know I'm wearing shorts. It feels odd, having a skirt on and the breeze going up it!"

Joyce and two other girls burst out laughing and George waved to them cheerfully. Anne shook her head. It was going to be a long week.

\---

By Wednesday afternoon, George had two detentions, 250 lines to write for four separate teachers and one missing chunk of hair. To be fair, one of the detentions and 150 of the lines were Timmy's fault, and George accepted those with good grace: she agreed that it was her job to teach Timmy not to chew Matron's slippers, not to run into class to see her and not to dig under a gate and swim about in the swimming pool. It was entirely fair to punish her and not Timmy, and she was glad that the Head saw things the same way, and wouldn't expel a dog for anything short of biting. Maureen, who she'd met on the train, had been in detention too, for smuggling her dog Bob into the First Form dorm, where he promptly destroyed another girls' French book. Both Maureen and George thought that was well worth the detention!

Honestly, George didn't mind the other 100 lines too much, which she had been given for smuggling a Brussels sprout into Prep and flicking it at a girl she had taken to calling Mean Eileen for her habit of turning her nose up at George and saying she smelled of dog. All the lines were worth it for the expression on Mean Eileen's face when the soggy vegetable landed right in her lap! Good old Anne helped with the lines, of course, but she couldn't help with detention. It was a terrifically unfair detention – the French teacher, known only as Mam'zelle, not only insisted on calling George by her hated given name, Georgina, but pronounced it with a strong French accent, which George found difficult to understand. Hence, when she called on George in class, George had paid no attention whatsoever but continued to stare out the window, even when the rest of the class started to titter. Mam'zelle had been furious and sentenced George to detention cleaning out the trophy cabinet. That had led to an angry George cleaning things carelessly and getting her hair caught painfully in the hinges of the trophy cabinet. She sawed off the lock of hair in question with her illicit pocket knife and freed herself. Anne said it was hardly noticeable, but she would say that; other girls had pointed and laughed but George had refrained from punching them. They were only girls, after all.

So it was in a foul mood that George stomped out to the playing fields for the hockey try-outs. Anne had been going to take her to watch some older girls practising the previous afternoon, but detention had intervened. The coach was Miss Badenoch, who George had immediately liked for calling her George, although she had rapped George's knuckles with a ruler for not knowing the dates of Henry VIII's reign. Wearing the very comfortable school sports uniform – a shorter tunic with bloomers and plimsolls – couldn't shake George's grumpiness either.

"George! I was worried you'd get detention again!" Anne ran up beside her, her hair tied in a ponytail.

"In sewing? No, I only had to sweep the floor when everyone had finished. I'd rather that than more lines!"

Anne tucked her arm into George's, but George pulled away. "Oh, well, good! Three detentions in the first three days would be a school record!"

"Even though one of them was Timmy's?"

"I think that still counts, George. I hope Miss Badenoch doesn't run us so hard we can't walk Timmy afterwards!"

George screwed up her face dubiously, but she was soon glad she hadn't said anything, since Miss Badenoch had all the girls running up and down the field at a great pace until George was gasping for breath. With a blast of the whistle, she then brought them over to take hockey sticks from a big wicker basket and they started hitting the hard hockey balls across the field to each other. George had never held a hockey stick in her life, but Anne showed her where to put her hands and she picked it up in no time. This was much more fun than lessons! Even when a ball hit her foot and ran up her shin, George only laughed.

Miss Badenoch strode up and down the line of girls, helping them hit harder and stop the ball more accurately, until she reached George.

"You've never played before, have you?"

"Not once!" George admitted with good cheer.

"Anne, would you be willing to help your cousin learn the rules by Saturday?"

"Of course, Miss Badenoch!"

"Good girl. George, I'll put you on as reserve, so you'll get a bit of a run to practise your skills, but I think by the end of term, with some work, you'll be a very strong player."

George grinned widely. "Thank you, Miss!"

"Thank you for bringing her along, Anne – glad the lacrosse team didn't get her!"

Anne glowed at the praise and whacked a ball across the field with great determination.

They didn't have time to play a practice match before it started to rain, but George was getting the hang of hitting, pushing, stopping and dribbling, and was as proud as Anne when both of their names were read out as part of the Thirds. The team was made up of girls their own age – the Seconds and Firsts were older girls of course – and George's delight at making the team wasn't diminished when Mean Eileen and her nearly-as-mean friend Patricia were also named as Thirds.

\---

Anne was relieved that George had made the team, and resolved to spend the rest of the week drilling her on the rules in the hopes that she'd stop antagonising the teachers and Eileen. Taking Timmy for an extra walk in the morning – George's plan to help keep him from running into the school to find her – gave the girls plenty of time to go over the rules of hockey. The rules were fairly simple and George was a quick study. It seemed that anything she learned while striding across the moor with Timmy stuck far better than the lessons learned sitting in a classroom.

"What if we started going over history the same way?" Anne suggested, one chilly morning when the dew on the long grass left them soaked to the knees.

George laughed and threw a stick for Timmy, who raced ahead of them. "Why ruin our walk? Hockey's fun, but I don't want to start cramming kings and queens and wars in."

"But I don't want Miss Badenoch to hit you with the ruler again!"

"Oh, Anne, you're such a girl." George crouched down to take the stick from Timmy's mouth and give him a rough pat as a reward. "It hardly hurts – I'd rather ten raps over the knuckles than more lines or detentions!"

"Geography, then," Anne argued. "You've already got the capitals of Europe to write out or you're going to get more detention."

Looking up at Anne with a fierce glare, George kept ruffling Timmy's fur. "I'm not studying on the moor! And if you think walking Timmy is a waste of time, you should stay in the dorm." With that, she got up and stalked off, Timmy bouncing along at her heel.

With a sigh, Anne followed after. There was no convincing George of anything!

By the time they made it to the kennels and stables, George and Timmy were a good two hundred yards ahead of Anne. When Anne caught up, George was getting a hearty scolding from Miss Trumble, one of two tweed-clad women who cared for the animals, the other being Miss Wright.

"I don't care if she's the devil incarnate, you don't leave anyone out on the moor by herself!"

"Yes, Miss Trumble," George replied, "But Timmy would find her if she got lost."

"Welcome back Anne," Miss Trumble told her, holding open the gate. "And I know Timmy's a good dog, George, but I'm thinking of him too. Rain comes in right quick here, and I wouldn't send a dog out searching in that. You need to stick together."

George thought about it for a moment, then nodded seriously. "I understand. I won't do it again."

"Good girl." Miss Trumble patted her on the back in the way she'd pat a dog, and George grinned. Anne had always been a bit alarmed by the heartiness of Miss Trumble but she was pleased that she, George and Timmy all got along so well. Of course, Anne didn't believe all the rumours about Miss Trumble having a daughter out of wedlock, the much younger Miss Wright – Gaylands would never had kept Miss Trumble on if that was the case! Anne thought they must be cousins like her and George – they looked quite different, but palled around as if they'd known each other all their lives. Besides, she couldn't really imagine the sensible Miss Trumble doing anything as scandalous or silly as that.

"Sorry for storming off, Anne." George's apology was immediate and heartfelt.

"You're not saying that so you can still take Timmy out on the moor? If I didn't come along, you'd have to find someone else or walk him around the school grounds." Anne didn't know where that sudden bit of spite had come from, but Miss Trumble laughed loudly.

"You hear that, George? Don't start taking your cousin for granted."

Painfully honest George, of course, hadn't meant anything of the sort, and was looking most surprised. "No, I'm really sorry!"

"Don't worry, I accept your apology." Anne smiled and pulled them both to the side to get out of the way of Miss Wright leading in a group of girls with horses.

"Thanks, Anne." George looked terrifically relieved, and Timmy pushed his head against Anne's hand.

\---

George made it through the rest of the week with only 100 more lines for being "insolent" in French class, and Anne's friend Joyce had trimmed George's hair with her nail scissors to make it a bit more even. On the other hand, Mean Eileen and her friends had started calling out George's name and, when she turned around, adding a drawn-out "-iiiina!" to the end. George knew she had to try to keep her temper but only the thought that they were on the same hockey team kept her from leaping across her desk and slapping Eileen more than once. Well, that and the realisation that as the days got shorter she wouldn't have time to both serve detention and walk Timmy before dark.

Saturday was a bright, if windy, day and George made sure to eat an extra-hearty breakfast before their practice match against the Seconds. To keep things fair, the Seconds would start the day with a game against the Firsts, then, when they were tired, play the Thirds. Next weekend games against other schools started, so it would be good to have a warm-up. George was nearly as excited about watching the Firsts versus Seconds match as playing herself, and it seemed that much of the school was the same way about the assorted activities of the day: there were half-a-dozen different sports going on, from lacrosse to riding to fencing, and a few dedicated girls were making the most of the warm Autumn day by going swimming.

After a quick run to the dorm to get changed into the sports uniform, George found Anne and headed off to the hockey field.

Anne tried to drill George on the rules. "So how do you avoid being off-side?"

"Uh, two players between you and the goal-line?"

"Or…?"

"Or be behind the ball! Don't worry, Anne, we've got a whole match to watch before we get to play!"

"I'm not worried! I want us to make a good showing, that's all."

George laughed at her frown. "We were two of the fastest runners – well, out of the younger girls, anyway – so I think we'll be all right!"

A voice came from behind them. "Oh, someone's got a high opinion of herself! And that someone would be George…ina!" It was Mean Eileen, arm-in-arm with Patricia.

"Oh, do shut up," Anne snapped, but Eileen did no such thing.

"I'm surprised they let you on the team at all – it's obvious you can't work with other girls."

George felt her face going red with anger and quickly put her hands behind her to resist the temptation of hitting Eileen right in her mean mouth. "I can work with other people just fine, when they're not mean, sneaky girls like you."

Patricia smirked at her. "I thought you'd never been to school before, dear?"

Loyal Anne jumped in. "George has her cousins plus loads of friends back home!"

"That's hard to believe!"

"It's hard to believe you know what a friend is!" George retorted. "I'm friends with all the fisher boys even though Mother doesn't want me to, because I'm the best rower, and there's my friend Alf who helped look after Timmy when Father didn't want him barking at his window…"

Eileen sniffed. "Oh, I see. That's why you want to be called George, because all your friends are boys."

"I'm as good as any boy and better than most!" George yelled, shaking off Anne's grip on her arm. "And since all that being a girl teaches you is to be sly and mean and not get caught, well, I'd rather be a boy and take responsibility and my punishment fairly!"

"Oh, you're too good for a girls' school, are you?" Patricia's usually syrupy-sweet tone was slipping.

"George –" Anne started, but George was furious now.

"Who'd want to be at a girls' school? It's all manners and sewing and nice handwriting and we can't play rugby! If I went to a boys' school maybe I'd get a proper scientific education –" George could remember her father using those exact words – "and not get marks taken off for smudging the margin and sitting in an unladylike way!"

They'd come up to the rest of the Thirds now, several of whom were giggling at George's tirade. Anne started to murmur something placating, but George wasn't done.

"Being a girl is about hiding what you think and pretending to be nice and doing your hair the right way, and, well, I'm glad to be more of a boy! I'm not sneaky or a liar and it's not fair I'm stuck playing a game that doesn't even have a league!"

Janet, a Third Former, stepped forward. "Speaking as the Captain of the Thirds, I'd want to think that someone who's so like a boy would see the value in teamwork and exercise and fresh air. But I'm just a girl – what would I know?"

"That's not what I meant!" George shouted.

"It's what you said. If you don't want to play with us girls, if you think we're so useless, you can go on up to your dorm right now."

"No, I want to play." It felt as if she was being deflated, the way the rest of the team was looking at her.

"So, you're playing. Let's get started on some drills, then, and I'll work out where everyone's playing before we go watch the Firsts and Seconds play." Janet turned her back on George and everyone grabbed a stick from the basket.

George immediately noticed that no-one but Anne was passing the ball to her – though Patricia did once, with a condescending smile on her face and a slow, easy pass – but she didn't dare say anything to Janet, who looked really angry, her pale cheeks blotched red. She really hadn't meant that all girls were awful – only the girly ones like Mean Eileen, and the teachers who thought they were the perfect students because they never confronted anyone directly. She finished the hitting and dribbling drills with determination to show Janet she would work with the team.

Janet called everyone over and handed out positions – she herself was the goalie, in wicket-keeper pads and big leather gloves – putting George in reserve as Miss Badenoch had said she would. George didn't mind. Everyone was going to get to play, and at least Anne wasn't in trouble by association: she was playing Right Wing, a position that suited her speed perfectly. They all hurried over to watch the game before theirs, and Anne's friend Joyce started chatting to her, leaving George feeling rather left out. Once the game began, though, there was so much to watch and learn that she entirely forgot about being lonely and instead cheered enthusiastically for both teams.

The fast play and occasional risk to spectators when a ball went awry kept George in a much better mood right through the Firsts versus Seconds match. The Firsts won handily, but the Seconds scored two goals. She had to stay ready to play in the Thirds match against the tired-out but still skilful Seconds, but watching was fun as well. Before half-time, a little First Former named Yvonne took a cracking hit to the knee and had to go off for a bag of ice, and George was subbed on to play Left Inner, an attacking position between Left Wing and Centre. She ran up and down the field waiting for a pass from the fullbacks or halfbacks so that she could shoot it forward to the Wings or Centre, but it never came. Once when a girl from the opposing team was right in the way of a pass up to the Right Inner, the halfback chose to hit the ball across rather than pass it to George. The only other person who seemed to pay attention to this was the Left Wing, Mean Eileen: if no-one passed to George, George couldn't feed the ball forward to Eileen. .

"Thanks a lot, Georgina," she spat as she ran by. "You're so special you've wrecked the game for me."

George wanted to yell at her, but she didn't really know what to say. Instead, she held her tongue – even when she was subbed over to Right Wing to give Anne a rest and the team switched play over to the left side of the field, away from George again – and waited for the end of the game to approach Janet.

"Janet, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean that you were no good. I only meant that I wish I was a boy."

Janet fixed her with a stern look. "So you act as much like one as you can?"

"Yes." George felt that she was on firmer ground now.

"I can see that. You run around spouting your opinions on everything, talking about how you do things better than anyone else, deciding what is and isn't valuable here when you've been at Gaylands for a whole week! Well, if being a boy means you have no humility and no patience and no care for others, I'm glad I'm a girl!"

George stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure the rest of the team treats you fairly from now on. Fairness is something I respect." Janet unbuckled her pads and turned away, ending the conversation.

George wanted to cry, but there was no way she'd let herself do that. Instead, she drew herself up with all the pride she could muster and walked back to her dorm, alone.

\---

Despite Anne's efforts, George moped all afternoon and didn't enjoy her dinner, though there was trifle for dessert.

"Once everyone gets to know you, they'll be your friend," Anne told her as they returned to their dorm after dinner, "I know you want to be a boy because you prefer boy things, not because you hate girls, and everyone else will realise that, too."

"I hate some girls," George replied unhelpfully.

"Really, though, everyone will pull together. I was reserve for the Thirds last year, and it was a really great team. We ended up top of the Third teams in the county, though I suppose it's not as impressive as when the Firsts do it!"

"Really? I didn't see a trophy in the cabinet when I was cleaning it. Do they not give one out for the Thirds?"

Anne giggled. "They do, but the silliest thing happened. All the hockey teams had a picnic out on the cliff to celebrate our win, and the Seconds and Firsts both finishing third. We had the trophy out and a few big girls were tossing it around, playing a game of Keepings Off, while the Thirds were trying to get it back, and it accidentally went over the cliff. Janet nearly jumped after it, she was so cross!"

"Did it go in the ocean?" A thoughtful look had settled on George's face, though Anne had no idea why.

"Maybe it is by now, but then it just bounced down the cliff into the rocks. We went around to the beach at low tide – you know, where we walked Timmy yesterday morning – but we never found it."

"That's a pity. I bet Janet really misses it."

"Well, it's gone now! Come out to the common room – there's no Prep on Saturdays, and we have a radio!"

George grinned, looking more like her old self. "You know, I think I will."

Anne woke up at dawn, with a sudden realisation loud in her mind: George was going to climb down that cliff and find the trophy. She tried to dismiss the thought when she glanced over at George's bed and saw her curled under the blankets, but then she looked again and saw that it was the old pillow trick they'd pulled on George's parents before. George herself was gone.

Without hesitation, Anne got up and dressed. Even if nimble George was able to climb that crumbling cliff safely, if she got caught she might be expelled and Anne couldn't stand that. She didn't want to think about George falling and hurting herself. Holding her shoes in her hand, Anne crept out of the dorm and down the stairs. The door to the outside was already unlocked – George must have come this way – and she put on her shoes before hurrying off towards the moor and the cliff. There was enough sunlight to see, barely, and everything was tinged with a beautiful soft golden light but the lovely morning was wasted on Anne. She broke into a run the moment she was outside the school grounds proper and away from any prying eyes, through the dewy grass and across the moor towards the sea.

Anne's certainty was confirmed when she saw Timmy pacing at the top of the cliff, low and worried. He perked up at seeing Anne, though, and dashed over to her, whining and wagging his sad tail.

"Don't worry, boy, I'm coming." Anne ran over with Timmy and carefully knelt down to peer over the cliff edge. Anne was not fond of dangerous places at all, but she had to check if George was all right. Timmy was making such a fuss.

"George! Are you down there?"

"What? Anne?" George's voice floated up from below, and now that Anne knew where to look, she could see the top of George's head as she paused in her climb.

"Yes, it's me, you jolly idiot!"

George looked up, far enough away that her face was a pale blur against the dark grey rock. "I'm fine, don't worry! I thought if I got into any trouble I'd send Timmy to fetch you."

"That's not a good plan! If you fall down that cliff and break your leg, I'm going to be so cross!" Anne knew she sounded ridiculous, but she was so worried that she didn't know what to say. At least the tide was out so far that if George did fall, she wouldn't drown. Then again, she'd land on the hard rocks at the bottom of the cliffs, which was hardly better. "Timmy is so worried about you!"

"Rubbish, Anne, he'll be fine. I climb on the cliffs all the time at home."

Anne paced alongside Timmy. "But you're used to those cliffs! Please come back up, George!"

"Hey! Anne Kirrin!" A voice called out and Anne turned to see who it was. To her great annoyance, it was Mean Eileen and Patricia, looking very pleased with themselves.

"What are you doing here? You don't have dogs to walk." Anne tried to bluff it out, but it was no use.

Patricia smiled sweetly. "We were so concerned about you and dear Georgina. Why might you might need to sneak out of the dorm so early? Why is Georgina's bed stuffed with her pillows?"

"Because I thought girls like you might want to follow me!" came George's shout from the cliff.

Eileen and Patricia immediately ran over, heedless of Timmy's growl.

"You're climbing on the cliff?" Eileen looked incredulous. "Why would you do that?"

"To get the hockey trophy!" George yelled, her voice carried easily by the chilly sea breeze that had sprung up.

"It's probably not there anymore!" Patricia said, and, to her credit, she at least sounded worried. "You should come back to school now."

"Please, George," Anne added.

The three girls and one dog at the top of the cliff waited to see what George did next.

\---

George was thinking about climbing up, if only because she was worried Mean Eileen would tell tales to one of the teachers, but then something metal caught her eye.

"Wait! I can see the trophy!" George climbed across to her left and tugged at it. "It's stuck between two rocks here – it's pretty dented."

"Just leave it!" Patricia shouted.

Eileen's voice was perfectly clear to George, for all she tried to ignore it. "Why are you trying to protect her? She's so tough, she's practically a boy. She can look after herself."

"Stop it!" Anne told her, but Eileen kept talking.

"You're such a show-off, and you have no manners and you're ignorant and dirty and you shouldn't be here!" Eileen raised her hand then grit and pebbles came flying down at George. Eileen must have thrown them!

Anne screamed, and a moment later Eileen screamed louder than Anne had. George could hear Timmy snarling.

"What? What's going on?" George shouted, "I've got the trophy, I'm coming up now!"

"Your dog bit me!" Eileen shrieked. "He bit me! I'm going to tell the Head and your dog is going to be sent home! And I hope they expel you too!"

"No! Eileen! He was protecting me!" George stuffed the small trophy in her baggy shorts pocket and started to scramble up the cliff, desperate to make sure Timmy was safe.

Anne reached out a hand to help George over the edge, but before George could grab on, her foot slipped on loose pebbles. She hung by one hand, her feet scrabbling for purchase against the rock, but she couldn't hold herself and went skidding down the face of the cliff. She could see the hard rocks at the bottom looming at her, but managed to slow herself with her feet enough to scramble sideways and fall hard onto an outcropping halfway down.

George looked up to see Timmy leaning down from the top of the cliff as if he wanted to jump down after her, but Anne had him firmly by the collar. Mean Eileen and Patricia were peering over the edge too, both looking horrified. George couldn't quite catch her breath, but at least she didn't feel badly hurt.

"George! Are you all right?" Anne shouted at her.

George made sure she was secure against the outcropping and shook out her limbs. Her legs were fine, if bloody at the knees, her arms were fine but her hands wouldn't close into a fist. She was a bit confused by this, until she looked more closely at her hands and realised they were bleeding: she'd lost all the skin on her palms and fingertips trying to stop her fall. Her palms were raw, embedded with pebbles and dust, and now that she could see the blood, they started to hurt. She set her chin and looked back up at Anne.

"I'm fine! Just cut up my hands a bit!" George reached out to the rock face to start climbing, but her hands wouldn't grip, slick with blood. She stared at her hands blankly, but they wouldn't obey her.

Eileen vanished from the top of the cliff, and a moment later Patricia followed. George strained her ears to hear them, but the wind was really picking up.

Anne was still there, though. "Eileen ran off, the coward! At least I don't think she's going to tell anyone about Timmy biting her now. You have to climb up, George. Or down to the beach, can you do that?"

"No, I don't think so. My hands are all torn up. But you can't go and find anyone – I'll be expelled, like Mean Eileen said! Or at the very least, the whole story will come out and Timmy will be sent away."

"Well, then maybe Eileen will be too!" Anne made a nasty face at the thought of Eileen. "Oh, I know who'll help! Miss Trumble and Miss Wright! They love Timmy, they won't want him sent home for biting!"

"Oh, good idea, Anne!"

"I'm going to send Timmy – I'll write a note for his collar. Don't move, I'll only be a moment."

Anne retreated from the cliff's edge along with Timmy, and George had a little time alone to realise how cold the wind was getting, and that little dark grey clouds were scudding towards them.

"Anne, I think it's going to rain."

Anne re-appeared. "I've sent Timmy for Miss Trumble, but I don't know if she'll make it before that rain. Can you climb at all, George? What if you wrap your hands?"

"I've got a hanky!" George pulled her polka dot hanky from her pocket and clumsily wrapped it around one hand.

"Here's mine!" Anne had tied her hanky around a small rock and carefully dropped it down to George. George completely muffed the catch, but retrieved the hanky anyway and wrapped her other hand. She put her hands out to try to grip the rocks but the lack of skin on her bleeding fingertips and the way her hands and fingers were stiffening up meant it was impossible to hold on. She didn't know what she was going to do when the rain turned the cliff face slippery.

The dark clouds got closer, but it wasn't long before Anne called out, "George! I can see horses coming our way!"

"What's going on?" Miss Wright's loud voice, used to shouting at horses and riders, was clearly audible to George.

Anne must have stood up and moved away from the cliff, as George couldn't see or hear her, but Miss Trumble was there, too.

"We've brought a rope! Timmy brought that note right to us, smart boy! We'll lower the rope down to you." Her tanned face appeared at the edge of the cliff. "George, we need to move fast before that rain hits. I've tied a loop in the rope, so I want you to put your foot in the loop and we'll haul you up. All right?"

"Yes, Miss Trumble! Is Timmy with you?"

Timmy's bark at his mistress' voice answered that question, and the two women quickly passed the rope down the cliff to George. George put her foot in the loop and tried to grab hold of the rope with her hands, but she couldn't close them around the rope.

"I can't hold on!" she yelled.

"Step back, we're pulling the rope up!" Miss Wright replied, and the first drops of rain started to pepper George's head and shoulders.

There was more talking at the top of the cliff, and moments later, Anne was lowered down, her foot in the loop and her hands holding tightly onto the rope. Her face was white as a sheet, but her lips were pressed together in determination. George, confused, felt that she was about to cry in relief, but she blinked furiously to keep the tears away.

Anne reached George's outcropping swiftly. "Hello! Let's get out of here!" She helped George put her foot in the second loop that was tied beside the first, then wrapped her arms around George, holding onto the rope with both hands, pressed against George's back. George put her hands on the rope for balance, though she couldn't grip, and tried to stay as still as possible.

"Pull us up!" Anne yelled, louder than George had ever heard her, and Miss Trumble and Miss Wright hauled them up, slow and swaying, to the safety of the grass. George and Anne both slid to the ground in relief and the rain began in earnest, pounding down on them.

"Thank you!" George hugged Anne. "Thank you!"

"You've still got the trophy!" Anne had spots of colour in both cheeks now and pointed a finger at George's pocket. "I can't believe you, George! You hung onto it all this time!"

George let the poor little battered trophy fall to the ground, where Anne scooped it up.

"Come on, girls!" Miss Trumble shouted over the rain. "Let's get back to the school and get those grazes seen to! And don't worry about Timmy – we'll get all this bother sorted out."

Miss Wright lifted George up onto her big grey horse. George was about to protest when she realised that her legs were shaking and she was, in fact, crying – fortunately hidden by the heavy rain – and protested no more as they walked to the school, Timmy bouncing along at their heels.

\---

Anne was pronounced perfectly well, as long as she got out of her wet clothes quickly, but George was kept in the San. all Sunday while Matron picked gravel out of her hands and knees and painted her bright red with Mercurochrome. Anne fretted all day, though Eileen and Patricia hadn't said a word to anyone and looked too scared to try. It wasn't until dinner that George made an appearance.

Everyone had said Grace and was starting in on their soup when Matron brought George in and sat her down next to Anne. Her hands were bandaged and her bare knees covered in sticking plasters, but otherwise George was her old self again.

"How are you?" Anne whispered, breaking the rules.

"A bit sore, but Matron says I should be playing hockey again in a week or two!"

"Oh, George, that should be the last thing on your mind!"

A prefect cast a glance their way and Anne ate quietly for the rest of the meal.

As everyone got up to leave, George leapt up and hurried over to Janet, at the next table. Anne, worried about what George might say, scurried after her.

George looked terribly serious and Janet waited to hear what she had to say.

"Janet, I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. Being brave isn't to do with being a boy or a girl." She reached into her uniform's deep pocket and pulled out the half-wrecked little hockey trophy.

"You found the trophy!" Janet smiled, but then she immediately became serious again. "You can't win me over with that, George."

"That's why I'm saying sorry. I went to find the trophy, but it was Anne who was brave and saved my life. She cared about me and risked her life to help me. So that's why I want to say I was wrong and I think I could do worse than to be a girl like Anne."

"Now that I can accept," Janet said, and carefully shook George's bandaged hand.  
Anne felt her face go red. No-one had ever said anything so nice about her before. Even if George only wanted to be copy her because she'd been swung about on a rope off a cliff, not because she wanted to follow the rules and do well in class, that could be a good start.

"Come on, Anne!" George took her hand. "History is first tomorrow and I don't want to be a total dunce – I can't have Miss Badenoch rap my knuckles while they're all torn up!"

Anne tried to fight down her blush, but it stuck firmly. "Would you really be like me, George?"

George laughed. "In the important ways? Yes, of course I would! But let's trade me polishing your shoes for you mending my stockings anyway. I think that will be better for everyone!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely betas, st_aurafina and curiouslyfic!


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